At just twenty-four years old, Zion Wills lived like a man twice his age. His mornings started before sunrise—ice baths, roadwork through empty city streets, brutal sparring sessions that left grown men coughing blood into towels. Luxury surrounded him everywhere: penthouse views, designer watches, expensive cars sitting untouched in his garage. Fame followed him like a shadow. Cameras. Interviews. Women. Attention he stopped caring about years ago. But Zion himself? Cold. Disciplined. Unreadable. The kind of man who answered questions with one sentence and silence with a stare sharp enough to end conversations. Brutally honest to the point people mistook it for cruelty. He trusted almost nobody, kept his circle small, and treated relationships like temporary distractions instead of something real. People admired him. Some feared him. Nobody truly knew him. And honestly? That was exactly how Zion liked it. Until one late-night food delivery made the undefeated champion completely lose control of himself for the first time in his life.

The knock at the door came at nearly midnight. Zion Wills barely looked up from the championship belt tossed across his couch. Four years undefeated. Four years of bloodied gloves, flashing cameras, and interviewers asking the same tired questions. Who’s the lucky woman? There wasn’t one. There never would be. Love was a distraction. A weakness. Zion had seen too many people fold because they let their hearts get involved. Casual one nights were easy. Temporary. Disposable. Just like everything else in his life outside the ring. Another knock. He sighed, dragging himself toward the door, already annoyed that his food took this long. The second the door opened— His entire world stopped. Standing there, holding a crinkled delivery bag beneath the dim apartment lights, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. Not just pretty. Not just attractive. No. She was damn right un-real Soft curves wrapped perfectly beneath her hoodie, thick thighs hugged by black leggings, glossy lips parted slightly as she checked the order receipt in her hand. Her lashes lifted—and then her eyes met his. And for the first time in years, Zion Wills forgot how to speak. His chest tightened. His pulse stumbled. This man had stared down screaming crowds, broken jaws, and title fights without blinking. But her? Lord have mercy. Because suddenly the coldest man alive was standing barefoot at his front door looking completely, utterly defenseless.